


Song of the Departed

by OrmondSacker



Series: The Jedhan Diaspora Series [1]
Category: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016), Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, Everybody Lives, Family, Force Related Trauma, Force-Sensitive Bodhi Rook, Grief/Mourning, M/M, Religious Content, The Force, Trauma
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-24
Updated: 2017-06-24
Packaged: 2018-11-18 14:56:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,577
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11293008
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OrmondSacker/pseuds/OrmondSacker
Summary: "Everyone?" Bodhi asks, his breath puffing in the cold air as he looks from Cassian, to Chirrut, to Baze, hoping against hope that he'll get a no."Everyone," Baze replies, his voice tight with anger. "The Empire leveled the entire village, no one was left alive."Bodhi can feel his chest constrict as that despair that this isn't the first time and it won't be the last either, looms at the edge of his mind.





	Song of the Departed

"Everyone?" Bodhi asks, his breath puffing in the cold air as he looks from Cassian, to Chirrut, to Baze, hoping against hope that he'll get a no. 

"Everyone," Baze replies, his voice tight with anger. "The Empire leveled the entire village, no one was left alive." 

Bodhi can feel his chest constrict as that despair that this isn't the first time and it won't be the last either, looms at the edge of his mind. 

"Maybe we should search? There might be a straggler or two who's survived?" Cassian says, a forced hope in his voice. "We can spare a little time here." 

Bodhi knows he is saying it for him, because Cassian knows where Bodhi's thoughts are heading and he wants to give him a life line. It fills him with equal parts gratitude and annoyance. 

"They're all dead." The finality in Chirrut's voice sounds like a door slamming shut.  

Swallowing hard Bodhi turns and walks back into the ship without saying a wor d to the other. He is met with a rush of warmish air as he steps in, almost suffocating hot after the chill outside. He heads directly for the cockpit and switch on the navi computer. 

"Bodhi?" Cassian's voice comes softly from behind him. Of course he followed him. 

"I'm making preliminary calculations for the hyperspace jump, it'll be quicker once we're out of the grav well that way. 

"Bodhi." 

"I know the Imps aren't likely to return, but we should probably-" 

Cassian grabs Bodhi by the shoulders and spin him around. 

"Bodhi," he says again, firmly, trying to catch Bodhi's gaze, while Bodhi is trying to look everywhere but him suddenly feeling like the whole planet is weighing him down. "Talk to me." 

"There's nothing to say," Bodhi replies, his voice taunt with restraint. 

"Isn't there? Bodhi I can see how much this is affecting you." 

Bodhi shakes off his hands. 

"I don't want to talk about it." 

If he could forget this ever happened, that they'd ever come to this planet and witness yet another atrocity committed by the Empire, he would prefer that. But not talking works too. It's too much, like a pall hovering around him, around everything in this place, clinging to it, seeping into to every crack and cranny it can find. He can't be away from this place soon enough. 

"You may not want to, but you look like a man who needs to," Cassian stubbornly insists. 

Most days Bodhi is fond of his boyfriend's tenacity, the way he will doggedly hunt don't something or persistently refuse to let an issue go until he feels satisfied, but not right now. Not when this place makes him feel like he's suffocating, like all that is good has gone away. 

"Just let me finish this." Bodhi turns back to the navi computer, wishing Cassian will take the hint and leave him alone. 

No such luck. 

"Bodhi." 

Bodhi can hear the badly restrained emotions and impatience in his voice, but stubbornly keeps his back turned. Part of him wants to turn around, have this argument out right this moment, but another part feels too vulnerable and fragile to fight. 

The sound of soft footsteps and the tapping of wood against metal interrupts them and moments later Chirrut appears in the doorway to the cockpit. 

"Forgive my interruption but Baze plan to carry out-" He breaks off with a frown, clearly searching for the right words. "The 'Song of the Departed' I believe the term would be in Basic, and we were wondering if you wished to participate?" 

"Song of the Departed?" Cassian asks. 

"It's a mourning song," Bodhi clarifies. "Ritual actually. One of Whills' tradition. My mom and I did one with one of our neighbors when her husband died. But it's been years, I was just a big kid, I don't remember much of it." 

"You will need to bring nothing but yourself," Chirrut reassures him. 

"Yes I'd join," Bodhi quickly agrees, more to get some space from Cassian than because he really want to do this. He doesn't really want to go out the ship again, look at the sooth covered ruins and smell the acrid smoke that hangs in the air like a shroud. 

"I will come too," Cassian says. 

Bodhi grits his teeth. Well, at least Cassian will have to be quiet. 

The first thing Bodhi notices when he exits the ship is Baze. The man has removed his armor, which has been placed against the ship along with his weapon. Bodhi can't recall ever seeing him without either when they were away from the base. Baze is standing halfway between the ship and the edge of the village, arms folded across his chest and head bent, exuding an odd serenity. 

Chirrut leads them over to him, indicating that they should stand so they all created a circle. 

Baze's voice, a deep, warm bass, rises in eulogy, to be joined by Chirrut's baritone. The NanJedhan lyrics brings back memories to Bodhi of Mrs Chiyan and how she was crying while she led the song of mourning for her husband; his own mother's voice, quiet but laced with grief as well; his own awkwardness in not knowing what to do because despite his mother's instructions his ten year old mind had refused to learn the lyrics properly. 

But back then he at least knew the language, though it wasn't the one he and his mother spoke among themselves, now he can only recognize maybe one word out of five. The Empire strongly discourages the use of any language except Basic and there are days where Bodhi has trouble remembering even his own native tongue, much less all the rest used on Jedha that he once knew so well. 

Lyrics of sorrow and parting, about the pain of absence and the hope of a brighter tomorrow, becomes broken and fractured in his mind from the gaps in his vocabulary. Yet another thing of Jedha he has lost. 

Tears falls from his eyes as he bends his head. Tears for all the people of Jedha who died and all of them that still lives with the losses, for his mother whom he never had the time to grieve for before deciding to take Galen's offer, for all the people of the village behind him and the family and friends that they may have elsewhere. And tears for himself, for the wounds he's beginning to suspect will never really heal but which he doesn't know how to live with. 

When the song ends he's shaking from head to foot, only remaining on his feet through a sheer act of stubborn will. Muttering something intelligible that he hopes the others will take as an apology he stumbles back on board the ship, locks himself in his cabin and sinks down on the edge of his bunks, burying his face in his hands as he struggles to breath. 

Time loses its meaning to him and space means little, though he remains vaguely aware of his surroundings, of the deep vibrations as the ship takes off. Slowly he can breath a little easier, but still it feels as if something is dragging him down, wrapping itself around him, pinning him. 

A tug calls his attention to it. Pulls at him again, more insistently this time. Unlike the other this one isn't uncomfortable, not much anyway. It has solidity, weight behind it and strength. 

Fingers peel away his hands from his face and tips his head up to look into cloud grey, unseeing eyes. A tiny relieved smile forms on Chirrut's lips. 

"Bodhi, I am glad you are with us." 

Bodhi frowns. "What?" His voice sounds hoarse to his own ears and his throat feels oddly sore, as if he hadn't used it in a long time, or had been screaming. 

"Is he okay?" Cassian's voice comes from the corridor. 

"He'll be fine," Chirrut says. "But Baze, I think some tea would be good." 

There is an affirmative grunt from Baze whom Bodhi can see the back of in the doorway, blocking it. 

"Baze just let me-" Cassian says, but the other man cuts him off. 

"There's nothing we can do here Cassian, lets go make some tea." 

"But-" 

Bodhi stares in stunned silence as he sees Baze silently grabs Cassian and drags him along with him before the door slides shut behind them. 

"That should give us some time and peace," Chirrut says as he rises to his feet. "How do you feel?" 

"I erm- There's a chair just to your right, if you want to sit."  

Chirrut smiles graciously, finds the chair and sits down, folding his hands around his staff and waits for Bodhi to answer. 

"I feel- I don't know how I feel. It's like, like everything is crushing me and-" His voice breaks and tear starts running down his face again. 

Rising from the chair, Chirrut crosses the small space and sits down beside Bodhi. He pulls Bodhi into his arms, cradling the back of his head. 

For some reason Chirrut makes Bodhi think of the still morning of the desert, the silence just before dawn breaks and a new day comes, a calmness that spreads from him and washes over Bodhi like a breath, taking with it the pain and heaviness. 

Straightening Bodhi surreptitiously brushes away the tears before realizing the absurdity of that. With shakes his head with a rueful smile. 

"I don't know what you just did, but thank you," he says. 

Chirrut shakes his head. 

"I did nothing." 

"If you say so. It seems 'nothing' worked though." 

A look of consternation spreads on Chirrut's face and he looks about to speak, only to abort and frown. 

"Bodhi, what do you know about the Force?" he finally says. 

"Not a whole lot I admit. I've heard you talk some and I remember bits and pieces from tales from my childhood. My mom-" 

The thought of her hurt, it always hurts. All the things he wishes he could tell her, but never did when he had the time. What she would think of him and all he had done, what she thought while she was still alive. Bodhi looks down on the floor as he continues. 

"We didn't talk a lot about religion. I don't know why. Maybe she didn't want a rash, blabbermouth kid inviting trouble with the Empire by talking about things he shouldn't." Bodhi laughs ruefully. "I never did know when to shut up. And when I was old enough... I had got other interests." 

Interests in flying. In getting off Jedha, a world that was increasingly intolerable to live on, by any means possible. In making some money so they could have a better life, any sort of life that entailed more than surviving. Even if it meant working for the Empire. 

No matter how long he lives Bodhi knows he'll never forget the fight he had with his mother about that. Nor will he forget that he never gave her a proper apology, though they did make it work between them again. There isn't a day where he doesn't regret that now. 

"I'm not really interested in a sermon right now, I just need some time alone. I'll be alright." 

"Isolating yourself won't fix what has changed in you Bodhi Rook, though it may grant you a temporary reprieve. But ask yourself, how long will you be able, or willing, to hide from the world?" 

Bodhi sits for a moment before looking up at Chirrut. "Go on." 

"There are many explanations for what the Force is, theories about what it wants, if it wants anything at all. Which you most likely already know, you did grow up on Jedha after all. Even if you did not hear the details of the various scriptures, even the Empire could not erase that they had existed. Did exist." 

There is a brief pause before Chirrut continues. 

"While we can all hear its voice if only we try hard enough there are those who are born with a great aptitude for it, for letting it guide their actions and sculpting it to their will. Those who became Jedi during the rule of the Republic were such beings. The are still born, but can no longer find anyone to train them. Then there are more ordinary beings who has no such gift, but who can learn to hear with greater clarity, to reach within and without themselves, with sufficient training." 

"Such as you?" Bodhi interjects. 

"Such as me, yes. And Baze, though he no longer does so consciously if he can avoid it."  

The last is said with great sadness and Chirrut sighs before continuing.  

"And then there is a third group, far rarer than even the first. They are born with no great talent, nor do they possess any special training. No, instead they find their way to the voice of the Force through great anguish. By pain and trauma their eyes are forced open, but they do not have the adaptable mind of a child to cope with what they find, nor the discipline and practice of those schooled in its mysteries. When you add to this the pain that they are in, many find themselves retreating from the world." 

He turns so he 'faces' Bodhi. 

"Or driven mad by it." 

"What? Do you think that I- That I'm- Chirrut, what are you trying to say?" 

"That the loss of Jedha, that all that you have suffered have changed you more than you think it has. What you felt down there was not just your own grief and fear. It was theirs as well, the people who lived and died there, the echo of their deaths." 

Bodhi sits, staring blankly at nothing as he tries to wrap his mind around what Chirrut just told him. 

"What do I do?" he finally asks.  

He realizes that he can't go on like this, as he is. He can barely handle his own grief some days, if he runs into something like this again, he doesn't know if he can handle too many times like that. But what is the alternative? Hiding? No, as Chirrut just pointed that's not going to work for long. 

"Had Jedha still stood I would have advised finding a path that suited you, but now I do not even know where to begin to look for others. Or even if any of them still survive. And while the members of Order of the Whills did learn about other traditions I do not know enough to teach them. So the path of the Whills I'm afraid it must be, it is all I have to offer." 

Thinking of the elegance Chirrut moves with in battle and of Baze's determined strength, Bodhi shakes his head. "I don't think I'm cut out to be a Guardian." 

"Our Order does not just hold Guardians, there are the Disciples as well." 

"What's the difference?" 

"The Guardians are the watchmen, the Disciples the listeners. You always struck me as a good listener." 

Bodhi chuckles softly. 

"While Baze and I never walked that path, I think between us we remember enough to teach it. If you wish us to." 

"I don't have much choice, do I?" 

"There is always a choice." 

"Maybe, but none of the others look very palatable. So I accept." He sighs deeply. "When and where do we start?" 

"First I think we had better go talk to your boyfriend, or Baze may have to resolve to sit on him. If he hasn't already." 

"The tea was just to get him out of the way?" Bodhi asks. 

"Oh no, Cassian did appear to need it." 

"I thought you meant it for me." 

"I'm sure Baze will be happy to make you some as well." 

Suddenly Bodhi can't help laughing. 

"You two, you're a pair of old shysters aren't you?" 

Chirrut's only answer is a toothy smile. 

 

**oOoOo**

 

In the galley they find a very disgruntled looking Cassian, while Baze carries an air of serenity, a cup of tea on the table in front of both of them. 

Baze has Cassian crowded into a corner, trapped between the table, the bulkhead and Baze himself, his only way of getting away would be to climb over the table or try to physically move Baze. Going by the expression on his face Cassian looks three seconds away from trying the latter, but the moment Bodhi and Chirrut steps into the room his expression changes from frustration to concern. 

Heedlessly he gets to his feet and being so hemmed in almost falls over, but Baze calmly moves his legs so that Cassian can finally move. 

Five steps takes him to Bodhi and Bodhi finds himself swept up in a fierce embrace. An almost crushing heaviness settles on Bodhi at the touch and only with difficulty does he suppress a gasp. 

"Are you alright?" Cassian asks. 

"I will be, I think," Bodhi replies as he steps back from Cassian, unable to bear what he feels from him. 

"Chirrut and I will be in our cabin when you two are done," Baze says to Bodhi, before following his husband out of the galley leaving Bodhi alone with Cassian. 

Sending a puzzled look at the retreating backs of the two Guardians, Cassian shakes his head and looks back at Bodhi. 

"What was that about? What happened earlier?" 

Bodhi tentatively sits down on one of the chairs. 

"I'm not sure," Bodhi says.  

And he isn't. He isn't sure what happened, how it is even possible. That he feels what others feel. Despite Chirrut's explanation it seems impossible and yet the wash of emotions he just felt at Cassian's touch makes it undeniable. 

The thought of that weight makes him look down on his hands that lies clenching and unclenching in his lap as he tries to pick apart the sensations in his mind now that he knows where it is they come from and what they are. 

Pain, grief, worry. Above all else in that moment there had been worry, a worry Bodhi can only assume is mostly about him. He looks back up at Cassian. 

"I'll be alright." 

"Let me help you." 

"You can't, not with this." 

"But those two," Cassian says, nodding at the doorway Baze and Chirrut disappeared through, "Can?" 

"I think so." 

"Good," Cassian says gently and nods absentmindedly. "I suppose I should let you..." His voice trails off and he waves vague at the doorway, giving Bodhi a look he can't interpret before he turns and heads towards the cockpit. 

"Cassian," Bodhi calls after him.  

Cassian stops but doesn't turn back to face him. Bodhi walks up so he's standing right behind him. 

"I love you," he says. Bodhi isn't sure why it feels so imperative to say that to Cassian right now, but he does it anyway. 

"I know, I just wish-" Cassian begins. 

"-that you could help me," Bodhi finishes. "I know." 

Cassian turns around and looks at him again, looking somber. "As long as someone can." 

Bracing himself for what he knows he'll feel Bodhi reaches out and takes Cassian's hand, still the weight is almost too much to bear. 

"Does touching me hurt you?" Cassian asks. 

Bodhi doesn't answer, he doesn't have one. Not one Cassian could understand. It hurts to touch him, but the thought of not touching him hurts more. 

"Come here," Bodhi says instead, pulling Cassian closer until they have their arms wrapped around each other. "It's going to be okay," he says, voice muffled against Cassian's shoulder. 

Cassian laughs. 

A burst of lightness shoots through Bodhi, it reminds of the trilling song of the Leyji when they soared in the sky over the Holy City. 

"I think that is my line you're stealing there," Cassian mutters, his lips close to Bodhi's ear and his voice filled with fondness. 

"Mmmm, you need to hear that more than I do right now." 

"Perhaps you're right." 

Cassian pulls away a little and rests his forehead against Bodhi's. 

"I'll try to explain to you when I understand," Bodhi promises. 

"I know you're not being obscure on purpose, I just worry." Cassian plants a kiss on Bodhi's cheek and steps back. "Someone is waiting for you," he says nodding in the direction of Chirrut's and Baze's cabin. 

Bodhi gives Cassian's hand a squeeze and heads down the corridor. As he walks his thoughts returns again to Jedha and to his mother.  

 _What would she have said if she could see him now_ _?_  

He knows she named him using an old Jedhan word for enlightenment and he wonders if she had known something, if she had had some kind of connection to the Force, or if it had been a wish for his future. A future that might have been very different had the Empire not subjugated Jedha so completely. 

He hopes she would have approved, but he knows he'll never know for sure. His chest constricts at the thought and the knowledge that he never got to say goodbye. 

Silently he resolves to have the two Guardians teach him the Song of the Departed properly before they do anything else. It isn't much, it isn't what he wish for, but it's the only way he can think of to pay her respect and find some sort of closure. 

That won't solve his other problem, but it might make his heart feel a little less heavy. 


End file.
